


Claustrophobia

by TheFinalFrontier87



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:47:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23582584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFinalFrontier87/pseuds/TheFinalFrontier87
Summary: It's a wonderful day in Gotham city. The sun is shining, people are hard at work, and the bat kids are all stuck in an elevator together. Are they all there for different reasons? Yes. Does that change the fact that they are trapped in a small enclosed space together? No. Will they burn down Wayne Enterprises instead of trying to cooperate with one another? ...Maybe.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 142





	1. We're All In This Together

Jason walked with a proud swagger down the busy street, his black leather jacket, dark reflective sunglasses, shining shoes, and clean jeans completing his desired look he had meticulously picked out that morning. He had to wake up early even to dye the white streak in his hair black, and he realized it was worth it. He put his hands nonchalantly in his jacket and looked up at his destination, an impressively tall glass skyscraper.

He smirked.

Earlier that week, Arsenal, or better known to Jason as Roy, bet that Jason couldn't steal a newly-created bomb by Lucius Fox for Batman. The bomb in question could disable any machine run by electricity in a one-mile radius. Roy had a few just like it, as he made them himself, but that was of no consequence. It was much more fun to steal a thousand-dollar bomb from Wayne Enterprises than just to use one of his own anyway.

Forty dollars on the line, and there was no way that Jason was about to lose.

He entered Wayne Enterprises with purpose and stopped in the lobby.

His hands twitched expectantly at his sides.

* * *

Damian nodded slightly and flipped to the next page of his 300 page book. His eyebrows twitched at the new title with renewed interest.

Just when he was getting to the most gruesome—and therefore the best—details, the door swung open and Grayson came bursting in like a clown high on Adderall.

"Hey, Dami!" he sang.

"Grayson." Damian said simply to acknowledge Dick's presence. He did not look up from his book.

"I'm about to run to Subway, wanna come?"

"I see no point of running somewhere that is multiple miles away when you could just use one of Father's many cars. Your stamina will run out before you reach your end location," Damian huffed, rolling his eyes.

Dick faltered. "That's… that's not… I _was_ going to take a car."

"That is not what you said."

"It's… it's a figure of speech, buddy."

"I am not your buddy," Damian covered his face with the book, scowling.

Dick sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Right. Sure. Okay. My point is that I will be _driving_ to the Subway. And I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me, or if you'd be fine to chill by yourself until Al gets back."

"Chill?"

"It just means hang out," Dick explained with forced patience. His smile was beginning to look slightly plastic-like.

"Tt." Damian sighed harshly and slowly shut his book. "If I must."

Dick wagged his eyebrows. "You like spending time with me, don't you?"

"I've changed my mind." Damian reopened his book.

"No, come on! I'll go get the car started, get your jacket!" Dick said cheerfully. Damian sighed again and looked longingly at his book before putting it under his arm and moving toward the door.

Soon after, Damian found himself sitting in the passenger seat of one of Father's Lamborghinis, mentally in pain as Grayson obnoxiously "jammed out" (his words) to some equally obnoxious pop song. Grayson had rejected Damian's request to drive, along with his request to listen to Beethoven, so Damian did his best to delve into his intriguing book and ignore his embarrassing brother.

His attempts went unsuccessful.

"What'cha reading?" Dick asked, taking a slight break from singing Taylor Swift's "Bad Blood".

Damian's fingers tightened around his book and he hid the title with his chest. "None of your concern," he snarled.

"Oooh, someone's touchy today," Dick said, still singing, dancing, and patting the steering wheel.

Damian scowled and pulled his book closer. He wasn't entirely sure what "touchy" was, but he didn't care for Grayson's tone. Besides, he wasn't confident that his book would be what Grayson considered "child appropriate".

"None of your concern," he repeated, just as assertive.

"Lemme see," Grayson said, peering over at the book that Damian had pressed tightly on his chest.

Damian jerked the book away and turned away from Dick. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping your eyes on the road?" he snarled.

"We're at a stoplight, now let me see," Dick insisted, reaching over and wresting the book from Damian's iron-like grip.

He took one look at the page and paled.

"What the…"

"It is a detailed overview of some of history's most talented serial killers and mass murderers," Damian explained indifferently. "The one on that page is Stephan Gray Wayne. No relation, of course. His kill count was in the four hundreds, and that's only the ones we know about. Would you like to know about his preferred weapons and forms of murder?"

"What? No! Why are you reading this?" Dick said, aghast.

"It's fascinating," Damian said in a level tone. "Aren't you the one who encouraged me to partake in more learning experiences?"

"I meant to join a club or something! Not this," Dick waved the book violently, a horrified expression on his face.

"Tt. It's not like I've seen worse," Damian said, taking a swipe for the book

Dick held it far away from him. "That is not comforting!"

A car behind them honked loudly, indicating that the light had turned green. Dick tossed the book in the back seat and drove forward.

"I'm confiscating this." Dick said, glaring at the road.

"Whatever. I have more," Damian sounded unconcerned.

"What?"

"Nothing," Damian snapped. He crossed his arms and slumped in his seat. _I am contemplating,_ Damian thought. _I do not pout, I contemplate, no matter what Drake says._

"Well, what do you expect me to do if I can't read?" Damian argued. His eyes flicked hopefully to the book on the backseat.

"You can jam out with me!" Dick said cheerfully, pointing to the radio, where horrendous pop songs were still playing. Upon seeing Damian's scowl he shrugged. "I dunno, maybe Tim will have something you can do."

"You said we were going to Subway!" Damian frowned, evidently not thrilled with going to work for Tim Drake.

"We are, and then we're going to Wayne Enterprises so I can give Tim a sandwich since he probably hasn't eaten since yesterday."

"Visiting Drake was never on the itinerary," Damian said, disgusted.

"Yes it was, I just left that part out so you'd come with," Grayson said, smiling smugly.

"You deceived me," Damian hissed, his glare deadly and menacing.

"Not deceive. More like… forgot to mention something," he said, grinning widely. "Now stop pouting."

"I do not pout!" Damian yelled.

"Sure," Dick winked. Damian scowled and crossed his arms as Grayson turned the radio up louder.

* * *

The text on the computer screen in front of Tim blurred together as he read through the last paragraph he wrote. He shook his head and squinted at the text so it would come into focus. He read over the paragraph again, sighed, and tapped his fingers on the desk. His writing was practically incoherent. He got up from the chair, walked in a circle to clear his mind, and sat back down. Tim looked sadly at his empty coffee mug on the table and held up upside down to see if there were any drops of the dark-colored elixir left. Much to his dismay, there was none.

The phone sitting next to him rang. He sighed, ran a hand tiredly through his hair, and pressed a button lazily.

 _"Mr. Drake, there's a Dick Grayson here to see you,"_ said the receptionist.

Tim groaned and pulled at his hair. "Send him in."

_"Right away, Mr. Drake."_

Tim leaned back and fidgeted with his coffee mug. He tipped it upside down and held it over his head, hoping to somehow miraculously see a drop of coffee somewhere inside it.

The door flew open with a bang and Dick skipped in happily, wearing a t-shirt with his own insignia on it, and holding two subway bags. "Hey, Tim!"

"Hey," Tim said tiredly, holding up two fingers. He set his depressingly empty cup down. Damian sulked into the office but stayed as far away from Tim as possible. Tim's gaze slid over him as if he didn't see him at all.

"Brought you something to eat!" Dick said cheerfully, sitting down across from him. He slid one of the bags across the table.

Tim glanced at it, raising an eyebrow before staring at his screen again. "Thanks, but I don't really have time to take a break right now."

"Tim, you need to eat," Dick said seriously. He smiled and waved his hand at the untouched sandwich, "besides, it's a BLT, your favourite!"

"That's not my favourite sandwich," Tim frowned.

"Peanut butter, pickles, and skittles is not a real sandwich, Tim," Dick said, gagging dramatically. Tim reopened his computer and typed more nonsensical words onto the document and grimaced.

"It's food."

 _"Barely,"_ Dick said, still looking repelled. A second of silence passed, so Tim sighed and looked over at Dick and was surprised to see he was being genuinely serious, "For real, though. When's the last time you ate? Or slept?"

"Uhh…"

"Stop stalling."

"I'm not stalling, I'm thinking!" Tim squinted his eyes hard and bit the end of his pen. "It kinda depends."

"On?"

"The date?" Tim answered meekly. His gaze was on the ceiling now.

"It's Thursday the ninth," Dick huffed, looking at his watch.

"Oh, like... three."

"Three days?! Tim! That's not good!"

"No, three as in the date," Tim said. He once again looked in his empty coffee cup, as if he was searching for the answers to the universe. After a few seconds he looked back up. His eyes felt heavy and hot. Dick looked horrified.

_"Tim."_

"Yes?"

_"Tim!"_

"Yes?"

"That's not _good_ , Tim!" Dick cried, turning away from the desk and throwing his hands into the air. "Honestly, you're worse than B!"

"Yesterday I had some fruit loops!" Tim protested, his voice slurring a bit. His eyebrows furrowed. "Or was that Wednesday?"

"Yesterday _was_ Wednesday, Tim."

"Huh," Tim said. He blinked, noticing that he was sipping at his empty cup. He blinked slowly and licked his lips. "I need more coffee."

"No! No, no, no, no, no, no! No way!" He turned back around, closed Tim's laptop, and pulled Tim to his feet. Tim shook his head as the room spun a bit.

"I have work to do," Tim protested weakly, trying to go back to his comfortable chair. Dick slid Tim's uneaten sandwich back into the bag, scooped it up, grabbed Tim by the arm and pulled him away. "You are coming with me. We're going back to the manor and you are going to take a nap."

"I have work," Tim complained. He began to struggle against Dick's hold, but he was sleep deprived and badly coordinated and Dick was none of those things at the moment.

"B will understand. I'll send him a text."

"Hmmph." Tim blinked his eyes slowly again and when he opened them it was evident that they were very bloodshot. Dick sighed once again and pulled Tim along toward the elevator.

"Damian, come on, we're going!" Dick called. Damian got up from the floor, where he was somehow not seen by Tim for the entire conversation.

Tim's eyes shot up. "Demon Spawn is here?!"

"Drake," Damian scowled, appearing next to Dick.

"Oh, _great,"_ Tim huffed sarcastically.

"I disagree, seeing you is not great," Damian huffed, averting his eyes and glaring at the floor. "I'm only here because Grayson tricked me."

"Get along," Dick said, wrapping his arms around his brothers. He glanced down at Damian. "Did you finish eating already?"

"I disposed of the vegetarian salad. Despite the company's advertising, their food is not, in fact, fresh. They are false advertising; it's illegal and despicable. They're criminals, and deserve to be treated accordingly."

"What, are you gonna do? Start a one man vendetta against Subway?" Tim snorted. Damian's frown deepened.

"They're criminals!" Damian insisted.

"They're minimum wage employees!"

"It's diabolical!"

"It's sandwiches!"

"Get along!" Dick repeated, forcibly cheerfully. "We're family! Family has to get along!"  
"I disagree," said Damian.

"That is false," muttered Tim at the same time.

Dick rolled his eyes and pulled them towards the elevator.

* * *

Cass adjusted her ear buds and stepped out of the elevator, keeping her head down and keeping to herself. She was on her way to meet Stephanie for some coffee, but first she had to drop off some important files at Wayne Enterprises: files Bruce thought to be too important to send digitally, even with having the assistance of the Oracle. It seemed to her that Bruce was too paranoid for his own good; at times it was to the point of being excessive.

Cass gave the receptionist a nod as she passed, not bothering to check in. The receptionist knew her, and she knew the receptionist. There was no point. She knocked on the large dark wooden doors to Bruce's office.

"Come in."

Cass opened the door and silently set the files onto Bruce's desk.

He wordlessly glaced from his computer to the files, to Cass, then back at the computer. "Thanks."

Cass shrugged, shoved a hand into her hoodie pocket, and used her other to grab her phone from her back pocket and checked the time.

_12:45._

She had fifteen minutes to get to Starbucks.

Cass looked back up at Bruce and pointed towards the door.

"Leaving now. Am meeting Stephanie."

"I have a board meeting that I have to get to," Bruce said, turning his eyes back to his computer. He typed a few keys. "I'll walk with you."

Cass shrugged again and leaned against a wall, waiting for him to sign out of his computer and grab the files. He stood and opened his office door, nodding smartly at Cass. She nodded again and without another word, they left.

* * *


	2. I Didn't Do It

Cass pressed the elevator button and waited. Bruce stood nearby, intently looking over the papers that Cass had brought. Knowing the man, he probably had whatever was on them memorized through and through, but he was _extremely_ paranoid—he was the most paranoid man Cass had ever met in her _life_ —so he was looking at them again, reading and rereading, memorizing and rechecking.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Cass nudged his shoulder. He tore his eyes from the paper and looked at Cass, an eyebrow raised. She gestured at the files.

"What?" she said questioningly, tilting her head.

His eyes flickered back down at the papers. "Don't worry about it," he grunted, closing the folder so she couldn't see.

Cass huffed and looked back at the closed elevator doors, waiting for them to open.

She didn't have to wait long, apparently, because they soon opened and both she and Bruce were met with three _very_ familiar voices.

"Get your filthy three-year-old hands out of my hair!" Tim yelled, his hand shooting out to clutch Damian's face.

"Fight me, Drake! You're a coward and a fiend!" Damian shrieked back, yanking on fistfulls of Tim's hair. Dick grunted from where he was trying to pry them apart, but the two were glued together and locked in a fight to the death that Dick had no hope in separating.

"Demon Spawn, _I swear to God!_ " Tim screamed.

"Guys! Cut it out! You've literally only been in the same space for two minutes!" Dick cried, sounding near hysterics. He tried to plant his palms on the chests of each fighting boy, but he slipped and the two just screamed louder.

"You will be exterminated, Drake!" Damian yelled, pulling his hair again. Small clumps of black locks drifted to the floor.

"Sure thing, Dalek Prime," Tim grunted, shoving Damian away and breaking his hold on his hair.

"Guys, please," Dick pleaded, holding Tim's wrist and holding Damian back by the back of his shirt. They both ignored him.

"I didn't understand that reference," Damian hissed, kicking wildly in Tim's general direction; one kick nailed Dick in the chin. He stepped back in surprise, which allowed the two to continue their brawl without outside influence.

"That's _real_ surprising," Tim yelled back. He grabbed one of Damian's flailing feet with his free hand and yanked on it. Damian lost his balance and fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs. "It's from Doctor Who, you idiot."

"I assume you're refering to that stupid show you like about an alien you flies around in a magic phone booth," Damian snorted. "Tt. Your taste in entertainment matches your inferior intellect."

" _FOR THE LAST TIME IT IS A POLICE BOX! NOT A PHONE BOOTH! YOU KNOW THAT! WE'VE BEEN OVER THIS!_ " Tim stamped his foot like a child.

"I am not above bribery!" Dick said desperately. He was, once again, ignored.

The elevator doors slowly slid shut without any of them realizing Bruce or Cass were ever there. They stood in silence for a few seconds. The muffled sounds of the fighting boys was the only noise to be heard.

"I… I don't even want to know what that was about," Bruce said. He paused, "does that make me a bad parent?"

Cass shrugged, looking over her shoulder. "Different elevator?" she suggested.

Bruce grunted. "The only other one on this floor is down for repairs. And I only have," he checked his watch, "four minutes to get to my meeting."

They looked at each other for a few seconds before sighing simultaneously. Bruce leaned forward and pressed the elevator button again, looking to be in great pain.

Almost immediately the doors slid open.

"AND ONE MORE THING!" Damian screamed from atop Dick's shoulders. "YOU WERE A TERRIBLE ROBIN AND EVERYONE KNOWS IT!"

"You're really going to say that in public? Where anyone can hear you?" Bruce asked, sounding more tired than annoyed. For a moment, it looked as if he had about as much sleep as Tim, which was probably true. Bruce simply hid it better.

The elevators inhabitants froze. Damian was on top of Dick's shoulders like a baby chimpanzee, and Dick was using one arm to hold Tim in a headlock—a minute before he was trying to tear out _Damian's_ hair— and the other to try to keep Damian from falling.

"Father," Damian said, sounding surprised. He suddenly looked embarrassed to be on Dick's shoulders like an infant.

"Hey, B," Tim said, doing finger guns. Dick still had him in a headlock.

"This isn't what it looks like," Dick said at the same time.

Bruce sighed as he and Cass stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut behind them. "Really? Because it looked like Damian and Tim are fighting again and _you_ are failing to keep them under control."

"This is _exactly_ what it looks like," Dick acquiesced.

Bruce grunted and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Cut. It. Out."

"Yes, father," Damian sighed, hopping down from Dick's shoulders gracefully.

Tim huffed and shoved his way out of Dick's headlock., shrugging and fixing his hair. Dick crossed his arms and frowned.

"You know, _you_ really should be the person who deals with this kinda stuff," Dick huffed.

"Oh, _really,_ " said Bruce. "How can I, when you alway jump on it _immediately_ whenever there's a problem?"

"Fine! Next time a conflict arises, I'll stay out of it. You want to deal with it? Be my guest," Dick said.

"Fine," Bruce said.

"Fine," said Dick.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"F-"

"Are you guys going to keep saying 'fine'?" Tim interrupted.

Dick and Bruce both shot him a glare and went silent. Dick pressed the 'Lobby' button on the elevator and the box began to move downwards, soft music playing overhead. Tim and Damian gave each other death looks that conveyed the feeling that as soon as they were away from Bruce's watchful eye they would continue their brawl. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence the elevator slowed to a stop.

"We're picking up _more_ people?" Damian moaned. He tried not to glare at Tim again but was unsuccessful.

"What's this thing's max occupancy level?" Tim asked, staring at the ceiling. His vision was going in and out of focus, and his knees felt a bit weak. Everything felt a bit like a warped dream.

"See, you two _can_ agree on something!" Dick said proudly. Damian scowled loudly and Tim barely heard him. In both instances, his comment fell on deaf ears.

The doors slid open, and Bruce leaned forward. "Sorry, this elevator is… _Jason!?_ "

"Hmm? What? No," Jason denied, his eyes widening. "What?"

"Jason." Bruce repeated.

"Nope. Wrong person. Sorry. My name is… John… Smith…"

"That's a Doctor Who reference," Tim whispered. He went ignored. Jason rocked back and forth on his heels and grimaced. His eyes darted around the hallway, to the window on the opposite wall, and then back at the elevator. He chewed his lip.

" _Jason,_ " Bruce said in a warning tone.

"Kay, I'm just gonna…" Jason pursed his lips, leaned forward, and began rapidly pressing the close door button. "Close this up…"

"Jay, just get in the elevator," Dick said. "Please."

"Does this thing even work?!" Jason said, his voice raising nearly an octave, still frantically pounding on the button.

"Jason. Elevator. Now," Bruce growled.

"I would rather throw myself out of the building!" Jason snapped, his eyes blazing with fury. He planted his feet and his eyes flickered to the window again.

"Jason!" Bruce and Dick yelled in unison.

"Fight me!"

Dick grabbed one of the untouched Subway sandwiches and hurled it at Jason's head. He ducked easily and jumped away from the elevator.

"Did you just throw a freaking _sandwich_ at me?" Jason asked incredulously from out of view. He stepped back so the rest of the family could see him with his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, and I got another one. Do not test me," Dick said, brandishing the sandwich in question like a sword.

Jason stared at him for a few seconds as if he had grown another head, before quickly turning on his heel and running down the hallway, passing the window, turning the corner, and was gone. Before anyone could say anything Cass was out of the elevator and out of sight. This was almost immediately followed by a loud whump, a string of some _very_ creative curses, and then Cass reappeared with Jason over her shoulder.

"YOU ARE THE SIZE OF A SQUIRREL; HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS?!" Jason screamed, flailing his arms and clawing at her grip. She tossed him on the elevator floor and pressed the close button on the elevator. After a very long, very awkward few seconds the doors slid shut and it slowly began descending towards the lobby once more. Music played through the speakers as everyone tried not to look at each other.

Jason scowled and hopped off the floor, straightening his sleeves and trying to regain any dignity he could, but he was afraid it was already lost. He cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair, and prepared himself for the slew of questions that inevitably were to come.

"What are you doing here?" Bruce gritted out through clenched teeth.

"Good to see you too, B," Jason snorted sarcastically, glaring at him from behind his sunglasses.

" _Jason,_ " Bruce warned.

"I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd pop in, maybe get murdered by a psychopath. _Again._ "

Bruce sharply inhaled.

"Cause I died once," Jason added unnecessarily. All the rest of the elevator's inhabitants looked about ready to jump off a building themselves.

"Yes. I recall," Bruce said, staring straight ahead. His teeth clenched and his hands curled into strong fists by his sides, no doubt digging crescent-shaped intents on his palms. Jason snickered.

"What's in the bag?" Tim asked slowly, his bloodshot eyes assessing the large satchel that Jason was holding a bit possessively.

"Hmm?" Jason said, as if he hadn't heard Tim correctly. "What bag?"

"That bag." Tim said, pointing at Jason's satchel.

"Where?" Jason asked, hiding the bag further as he looked about the elevator overdramatically. At this point everyone was now watching Jason and his terrible attempts at hiding the very-obvious satchel.

"There!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jason said, knowing very well what he was talking about.

"Jason!" Dick, Bruce, and Tim snapped at once. Damian scowled and began muttering something in Arabic under his breath.

"Ohhh. _That_ bag," Jason said, faking surprise and staring at his satchel. He paused, like he was deep in thought. "None of your business." he decided.

"Ja-"

"Next person to say my name owes me two-point-five million dollars," Jason said, raising an eyebrow and glaring at Bruce over his sunglasses. Everyone in the elevator just about collectively rolled their eyes.

Before anyone could say anything however, there was a loud metallic creak that seemed to come from above. It was so loud that it drowned out the music on the speakers.

Jason looked up at the ceiling and made a _huh_ expression.

The elevator lights went out and it completely stopped moving. The screeching stopped but the elevator music continued to play as if everything was normal. Everyone stood still in silence, in darkness, for a good thirty seconds.

"What just happened?" Dick asked, fear creeping into his voice.

"Lights," said Cass helpfully.

"Oh, _really?_ Did the lights go out? What an astute observation, scary assassin lady," Jason said sarcastically.

This was once again followed by a whump and a string of creative curses.

"Why does Todd get to swear and I don't?" Damian asked Bruce, who chose not to answer.

"It's because I'm better than you, short stack," Jason said. "Obviously."

"At least _I'm_ not afraid of clowns you _coward,_ " Damian spat. From somewhere in the dark, someone gave a small gasp.

"That's it! I've just decided. You're dead!" Jason snapped. "You just died."

"I'm not dead," Damian said irritably.

"Yes, yes you are. You're dead."

"I'm not dead!" Damian yelled.

"Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead!" Jason said in a singsong, also raising his voice.

"Father! Tell him I am not dead!" Damian yelled. Bruce still chose not to respond, although his clenched fists probably were breaking skin at this point.

"Did you hear something? No?" Jason said to no one in particular. "Me neither. Must have been a ghost."

Damian yelled something in Arabic, and then there was the sound of metal clanging and a surprised yelp.

"Did you just… _DID YOU JUST STAB ME?!_ " Tim screamed.

"I was aiming for Todd," Damian replied as if that made his actions justified.

"WHY WOULD YOU EVER WAVE A SWORD AROUND IN A PITCH BLACK ROOM?! YOU JUST _STABBED_ ME!" Tim screamed, followed by the sound of him hopping around on one foot.

"It was a dagger, not a sword. Stop being so dramatic," Damian tutted.

"B, THERE'S A SWORD IN MY FOOT! DEMON SPAWN JUST STABBED ME! HE DREW BLOOD!"

Once again, there was no reply from Bruce. Only heavy sighs.

"Once again, it was a dagger. Not a sword," Damian repeated evenly.

"WHO CARES?!" Tim shrieked. He began to flail his arms and hit Jason with one and the other successfully smacked Damian.

"I want it back," Damain said, shrugging off the smack. "Give it back."

"Oh, I'll give you something all right!" Tim yelled. His arms flailed around faster. This time he hit Dick, Jason, Bruce, and Cass, but not Damian. He growled in exasperation.

"Guys, please," Dick said, sounding as if he wanted to melt onto the floor.

"I wish I had popcorn," Jason said, amused. "Kick his butt, replacement."

Bruce sharply inhaled again.

Right at that moment, the dim emergency back up lights turned on and the entire scene was illuminated. Cass, Dick, and Bruce were squeezed into the corners and sides of the elevator. Tim and Damian were so close they could reach out and touch the other. Jason was leaning nonchalantly on the side of the elevator, a small smirk dusting his lips.

Bruce, looking as though he regretted every decision that had led to this moment, leaned forward and pressed the emergency button on the panel.

Nothing happened.

Bruce pressed it again.

Still nothing.

"Try _pressing_ it," Jason said, quite unhelpfully.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Bruce asked, sounding even more exasperated. He stabbed it harder.

"You're hitting it. Just press it gently."

"I _am_ pressing it gently!"

"Guys," Dick said. "Fighting isn't going to get us anywhere."

"Screw you, golden boy, you threatened me with a sandwich!" Jason spat.

"I still have a sword in my foot," Tim reminded them. A small pool of blood grew by his feet. Jason and Bruce ignored him.

" _Dagger,_ " Damian corrected.

"Oh, shut up," Tim moaned.

"You shut up," Damian fired back.

"You!"

"You!

"Y-"

"EVERYONE JUST BE QUIET!" Dick yelled. The elevator's inhabitants went quiet. "We are trapped, okay? Trapped! If we fight, we die! This is life and death!"

"Life _or_ death," Tim corrected.

"It's… it's an _elevator…_ " Bruce said slowly. "There are protocols for this kind of thing… we'll be _fine._ "

"Life and death!"

"Life _or_ death," Tim corrected again, weaker this time.

"Sh," Dick hushed. "First order of business. Check our phones. Do they work?"

Jason sucked in a breath and dramatically checked his wrist, despite there being no watch. "If I'm not out within the next ten minutes I'm killing everyone here."

"Change of plans," Dick said. "First order of business is to take away all of Jason's weapons."

"Hey!"

"Why are you even, here, Todd?" Damian asked.

"And Damian's weapons, too," Dick said.

"I do not have any," Damian denied, wrapping his hands around his midsection. Cass raised her eyebrows at him in disbelief.

"I've been stabbed," Tim insisted weakly.

"You do too have weapons. I know you do. Do not lie to me," Dick said, pointing at Damian.

"Dick, I can handle this," said Bruce.

"Then please, by all means, handle it!" Dick said, throwing his hands up in the air and taking a step back. He looked at Bruce with eyebrows raised.

"I-"

"Preferably _without_ insults, physical force, or anything else that would escalate the situation further," Dick sighed.

Bruce blinked. "I am the adult here."

"Then maybe you should act like it," Tim grunted. The pool around his stabbed foot was growing exponentially.

"Excuse me?" Bruce said, his eyebrows raising.

"Oooh! Shots fired!" Jason yelled. "I knew I like the replacement."

"You stabbed him, and tried to kill him, _multiple_ times," Dick said. His patience was beginning to run short.

"Irrelevant," Jason replied, waving his hand.

"What is going on here?" Bruce said, his eyes flicking between all the arguing kids. His hands clenched at his sides.

"Figure it out, 'World's Greatest Detective' or whatever," Jason snorted.

"Guys…" Tim whispered. His face was turning a concerning shade of white, but no one seemed to notice that or the pool of blood by his feet.

"Okay, that is enough out of you," said Bruce, his dark brow shadowing his eyes.

"Oh, you'd prefer me to be quiet, would you?" Jason asked, his hands on his hips.

"Yes," Bruce said.

"No problem! You want me to be quiet? I'll be quiet!" Jason shot back. "I'll be _dead_ quiet. Quiet as the _grave._ It'll be like I'm dead, I'll be so quiet. _Death._ "

" _Guys,_ " Tim hissed out.

"Cause I know _a lot_ about being dead. You know _why_ I know a lot about being dead, Bruce? _Hmmm?_ " Jason asked.

" _Guys!_ " Tim said quietly, urgently.

"Guess, Bruce, guess!"

Bruce took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is it because you di-"

"IT'S BECAUSE I DIED!" Jason yelled.

Tim's eyes rolled back in his head, and he leaned forward, sagged his shoulders, and fainted.

There was a moment of silence, like the calm before the storm. Everyone stared at his unconscious body with their mouths slightly ajar.

"Tim!" Dick yelled, launching himself at Tim.

"I didn't do it," said Jason, holding his hands up.


	3. Pile O' Weapons

"And the shurikens," Dick said. Damian scowled and smacked the end of his shoe, causing two small shurikens to fall into his large pile of weapons. Dick crossed his arms and gave him a stern glare. A beat passed, and then Damian smacked his shoe and one more shuriken clattered to the ground. " _Thank you,_ " said Dick.

"And _you?_ " Bruce said, his arm crossed.

" _AnD yOu?_ " Jason mimicked snarkily. Next to his feet was a very dangerous pile that included two guns, four small knives, a dagger, a blade that he had hidden in his boot, a detonator to… something.., a necklace that had poison hidden in the jewels, a crowbar that he had _somehow hidden_ on his person (Jason had laughed and tried to explain the irony for a good five minutes; Dick almost cried), scissors, a grenade, a pocket knife, another grenade ("Seriously, Jason, how are you hiding all these?!"), _another_ knife, three rounds of bullets, and a tiny pistol that fit in his boot.

" _Jason-_ " Dick sighed.

"Geez, I don't have anything else!" Jason snapped, raising his hands defensively. He said this despite having at least three more weapons stashed in his clothing somewhere.

Bruce and Dick shared a look.

"Gloves," said Bruce.

"Hand over the gloves," Dick said, holding his hand out.

"What?!" Jason said incredulously. " _Oh come on!_ That's just ridiculous!"

"Jason. Gloves. Now," ordered Bruce. He held out a hand.

"JaSoN. GlOvEs. NoW," Jason spat, ripping his motorcycle gloves off bitterly and shoving them in Dick's general direction.

Dick grabbed them and turned them inside out, frowning as he searched them.

Jason crossed his arms and sulked, "I don't even know why you're looking at those. I mean, what could I possibly be hiding in-"

At that moment Dick's finger slid over a small button, and a collapsible short sword shot out of one of the fingers.

Jason blinked, and then put a hand over his heart in mock surprise, "how did _that_ get there?!"

Bruce threw his hands into the air and Dick grimaced. Jason shrugged and continued, "I have absolutely no _clue-_ "

"Jason," Bruce sighed. " _Why?_ "

"I dunno what you're talking about," Jason said, shrugging again.

"The weapons… why?"

"Well, you see… I died once," Jason said, nodding slowly. There was a long pause as everyone waited for him to continue, and then he concluded with, "and therefore any argument you make is invalid."

Bruce inhaled sharply and looked to the ceiling.

"Well this sucks," Tim said from where he was sitting. The satchel that Jason had been carrying was behind his back, but Tim had forgotten about its existence, along with everyone else.

"You're telling me! I just lost all my guns," Jason grumbled, crossing his arms and pouting.

"Hey, don't be negative. We can still figure this out," Dick said optimistically, clapping his hands together. "Who knows? This could be fun!"

Cass snorted and rolled her eyes as she tapped away on her phone. "Yes. Right," she said sarcastically.

"What are you doing?" Dick said, trying looking at her phone.

She shrugged and tilted it away from him. "Tweet tweet."

"Huh?" Dick said.

" _Bird?_ " Tim muttered, still very sleep deprived and quite possibly delirious. His stabbed foot had been bound with a shirt, but his face was very white and his eyes were still bloodshot.

Dick looked further over Cass' shoulder and gasped dramatically. "Are you _live tweeting_ this?" he asked, sounding downright scandalized.

Cass raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Dick snatched her phone out of her hands and started scrolling, the scowl on his face deepening. Cass huffed and crossed her arms.

"Read the tweets! Read the tweets!" chanted Jason.

"I'm not gonna- hey!"

Dick was interrupted by Tim swiping the phone from his hand. That movement nearly caused him to fall over, but he steadied himself on a wall. He sat there for a few moments, scrolling through the tweets, his white face expressionless. A smile flickered on the sides of his mouth and he blinked hard a few times to make sure he was reading them correctly.

"What do they say, replacement?" Jason asked.

"Why do _you_ care so much?" Damian demanded.

"I'm so bored, and something finally a teeny-weeny exciting thing is happening? How do you not care?"

"Tt." Damian rolled his eyes.

Tim continued to scroll down the list of tweets. A full-blown smile was now on his face.

"What do they say?" Jason whined.

"Uh…. she roasted Dick quite a few times… and Bruce… and, um…." Tim trailed off as he stared into space for a few seconds. He shook his head and squinted at the writing.

"Oh, just gimme that!" Jason jerked the phone out of his hand. " _'Tried to go get coffee with friend… dropped off papers for father… currently stuck in elevator with crazy fam. :( This is what I get for trying to help? #nothowkarmaworks.'_ "

"There's no such thing as karma," Bruce began, only to be shushed by every child at once.

Jason scrolled and kept reading. " _'Big brother Richard currently FREAKING OUT…. so dramatic… Probably crying idk… #bigbrother #overdramatic #LIFEANDDEATH.'_ "

Dick frowned and stomped his foot, "I am _not_ over dramatic!"

" _'Timmy fainted… again… probs from lack of sleep… the boy lives off of energy drinks and coffee. Idk how he's not dead. #24hrenergy #faint #helphimplease,'_ "

"I mean… that's fair," Tim sighed. He was slumped in a corner with his eyes half closed.

" _'Pretty sure Bruce is regretting adopting all of us, lol. Wish Steph were here… she'd drive him absolutely insane lol. #adoption #hesodone #myfamilyismorecrazythanyours,'_ " Jason read and chuckled. "She included a picture. You _do_ look done, B."

"What does that even mean?" Bruce sighed, obviously done. Tim chuckled softly from his corner.

"Brat may or may not have injured Timmy… Maybe he deserved it… these boys idk smh. :/ #Boysarewierd #youngestsiblingdrama #familydrama #boys.'"

" _Cass,_ " Dick whined. "That's not okay to say! Tim did not deserve-"

"Let the man speak," said Tim, shushing Dick and gesturing at Jason. Jason laughed and scrolled farther.

" _You know your family is crazy when your siblings get PATTED DOWN for something they could use to harm each other… only cowards use weapons… like, use your fists or your teeth you sissys. #smh #pathetic #weak,'_ " Jason said. "Teeth and fists, huh? I'll keep that in mind."

"What do you know about weapons?!" Damian demanded of Cass, stepping forward and trying to yank the phone out of Jason's hands. Jason glared at him and held it out of the small boy's reach. "You probably couldn't tell a katana from a rapier!"

"Pirates use rapiers," Tim commented uselessly.

"Shut up, Drake. You use a stick."

"Bo staff," Tim corrected.

"It's a stick!"

Cass grabbed the phone from Jason's hands and typed out " _They're doing it again… get me out of here please! #help #sos #Iwillfightthem.'_ "

"How many people are watching and retweeting that stuff?" Jason asked curiously.

"Ehh… Gotham," Cass said nonchalantly. She continued to type.

"Huh?" Jason asked.

"Gotham!"

"No, but how many?!" Jason asked, growing frustrated.

"Gotham! All!" she snapped. She continued to type, but with more fervor.

"Huh?"

"All! Every! Many more!"

"I don't understand!"

"IT IS NOT A STICK! IT'S A BO STAFF!" Tim yelled, about thirty seconds behind the current conversation. "It's _very_ technologically advanced!"

"Only the weak rely on technology!" Damian snorted. Jason was still staring at Cass, agape. He tried to look at her phone, but she tilted it away again.

" _Bruuuce!_ " Dick said loudly. "Do something!"

"What do you expect _me_ to do?!" Bruce snapped back, his arms crossed. He looked extremely uncomfortable.

"I don't know! Something! You're the adult!" Dick argued.

"You're an adult too!"

"So?" Dick retorted, as if that made his statement any less hypocritical.

"IT'S NOT A STICK!"

"YOU'RE WEAK!"

"WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY?" Jason shrieked at Cass.

Cass waved her phone in his face. "Entire of Gotham! All! Many!"

Jason took the phone and looked at it. His eyebrows shot up. "The ENTIRE city of Gotham saw these tweets?!"

"Yes!" Cass snapped angrily, ripping her phone back out of his hands.

"Guys!" Dick yelled, the veins in his neck popping with the effort. "Stop fighting!"

The entire room went silent for a few seconds, a few beautiful, peaceful seconds as everyone glared at Dick.

And then all hell broke loose.


	4. Doofenshmirtz Evil Inc. and Other Arguments

* * *

_30 minutes later._  
They all sat in a large circle-like shape around the edge of the elevator, as far from each other as possible and glaring at anyone who met their eyes.  
Happy elevator music played on repeat over and over and over again.  
Cass still tapped away on her phone, smirking from time to time.  
Five more minutes passed in complete, awkward silence, the only sound the bored sighs of the kids and the repetitive elevator music.  
Bruce sighed heavily and checked his watch. “My meeting started twenty minutes ago,” he said.  
“Oh _no._ Not a _meeting_. Whatever shall you rich snobs do without checking on the stock market or whatever every two minutes?” Jason sneered.  
“Will you just-”  
“Nobody will care,” Dick sighed. “They’re used to you not showing up or flaking. Part of your careless billionaire playboy persona, right?”  
“Yeah, well, this meeting was actually important,” Bruce muttered. “It was with Fox.”  
“What’d he want?” Tim asked.  
“To go over some new tech… some sort of bomb that can deactivate any form of technology in a mile radius.”  
Jason choked suddenly and bent over coughing. Everyone looked his way with raised eyebrows except Tim, who was processing information a lot slower than normal.  
“Oh, yeah. I remember that,” Tim commented. “I helped Fox design it. If we were able to apply that sort of technology to one of Gotham’s-  
“Is something wrong, Jason?” Dick interrupted, a touch of suspicion in his voice.  
“Wrong? Hmm? No? I’m good,” Jason said. “Well, good as one can be when trapped in a tiny elevator with his fam- with a bunch of lunatics.”  
“Who are the lunatics?” Damian scowled.  
“Were you about to say family?” Dick asked, looking excited.  
“Jason, what are you hiding?” Bruce asked, narrowing his eyes.  
“Well, you see…” Jason rested his chin on his fist and leaned forward, pausing for dramatic effect and making sure to gain everyone's attention. “I _died_ once, so-”  
“Would you stop!” Bruce snapped, his palm massaging his eyes.  
“Hmmm… no,” Jason stated, smiling.  
Ten more minutes passed.  
“I’m bored,” Tim muttered.  
“Let’s play a game!” Dick suggested, clapping his hands childishly.  
“I’m not bored anymore,” Tim amended, rolling his eyes and plucking at the shirt around his injured foot.  
“I am going to kill someone,” Jason announced.  
“I bet I can kill someone more painfully and more effectively than you,” Damian said.  
“Damian!” Dick and Bruce said at once.  
“In _theory_ ,” Damian grumbled.  
“Wanna bet?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow.  
“ _Jason!_ ” said Dick, standing up.  
“I accept your challenge, imbecile,” Damian said.  
“ _DAMIAN!_ ” said Dick. He tried to move towards him but tripped and fell over Tim’s outstretched leg, who cried out in pain.  
“Which one of these losers is our target?” Jason asked, looking around the elevator.  
“I’ll cut you,” said Cass, not looking up from her live tweeting. Dick jumped back to his feet and grabbed Damian’s forearm to drag him away from Jason. Damian bit his hand hard enough to break skin. He yelped and tripped over Tim again.  
“Anyone but her,” Jason decided. “How ‘bout Bruce? Let's kill Burce.”  
“I’m sitting right here,” Bruce said.  
“No. Me and you. Right now,” Damian spat.  
“You don't honestly think I’m going to fight a ten year old?” Jason asked.  
“It shall be less of a fight and more of a slaughter!” Damian shouted, his face a mask of fury. Jason was not impressed.  
“Shut up, you’re like six.”  
“FIGHT ME, COWARD!” Damian yelled, his small hands curled into fists.  
“Okay, fine,” Jason said, dropping into a stance. “Let's do this.”  
“JASON NO!” Dick yelled, holding his bitten hand tenderly while glaring daggers at Bruce, who was attempting to pretend the entire ordeal was not happening.  
“It is war!” Damian yelled, trying to grab a weapon from the giant stash in the center of the room.  
“Damian! No!” Dick yelled, knocking a large knife out of Damian’s hands. Damian hissed at him and tried to grab another.  
“Let’s go, short stack,” Jason said, stretching as he got off the ground. “I’ll make sure to give Talia your obituary next time I see her.”  
“ _Jason!_ ” Dick said.  
“At least I didn't get killed by a clown!”  
“At least I don't stay dead, unlike you _amateurs_.”  
With a roar of rage, Damian threw himself at Jason with his fingernails ready to scratch. Dick jumped in his path and held his head back with one hand, his mouth stretched into one long line.  
In the background, the elevator music continued to play a happy tune.  
Damian tried to free himself from Dick’s grasp. “Fight me!”  
“Yeah, I’m waiting. Are you gonna attack me or just hide behind Dick?” Jason yawned.  
“Do you guys hear something?” Tim asked. He tilted his head.  
“Yeah, it’s the sound of a MURDER!” Damian yelled.  
“No.. it's more like… um…”  
“Tim, I love you, but now is _not_ the time for your sleep deprived hallucinations, okay?” Dick grunted, straining to stop Damian from trying to kill Jason.  
“Footsteps?” Tim finished. Cass looked up and pulled an earbud from her ear. “Is someone there?"  
“Gosh, you must be _really_ scared,” Jason said patronizingly at Damian. “Cause I’ve been waiting here, and no one has fought me yet… what's wrong? Are you scared? Hiding behind Dick? Hiding from your problems like a baby?”  
“Jason! Not! Helping!” Dick yelled as Damian raked his arms with his fingernails.  
“Hello?!” Tim yelled, looking at the ceiling. Cass shushed him and pressed her ear against the door.  
“I’m not a baby!” Damian yelled.  
“You look like one. You gonna cry?”  
“Jason, please!” Dick cried.  
“Shhhhh!” Cass said.  
“What's wrong?” Jason said, smirking and turning away from Damian. “I could help, I got time. I got nothing _but_ time. Obviously the Al Ghul brat is too scared to fight, so I-”  
At that moment Damian broke free from Dick and lunged towards Jason, only for Cass to shove him away and hiss for them to shush again.  
She waved her hand at the door. Suddenly, there came a slow, curious knocking and a voice.  
“Hello?”  
“Lucious?” Bruce asked, sitting up suddenly.  
“Oh my gosh, save us!!” Tim yelled.  
“Elevator!” Cass added, unhelpfully.  
“Hey, Mr. Fox, we could use some help!” Dick said, sucking on one of his bleeding fingers.  
“Fight me!”  
“I'M DYING!” Jason yelled. “...again…”  
“How many of you are in there?” Fox asked.  
“Six,” Bruce said.  
“Correction,” Jason said. “Five losers, and one really cool and handsome zombie.”  
“ _I am going to lose it_ ,” Dick whispered.  
“How long have you been trapped in there?”  
“An eternity,” Dick moaned.  
“Forty-five minutes,” Bruce corrected, checking his watch.  
“After you didn't show up for our meeting I became concerned,” Fox said. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”  
“Elevator is broken?” Cass guessed.  
“There's been a theft.”  
Bruce stiffened. “What?”  
“The new prototype we were going to discuss today? It's missing.”  
“How?” Bruce asked, his voice suddenly interested.  
“Unsure, however, we did catch the perpetrator on the security tapes. I have security looking for a six-foot-two white male, with dark hair, wearing sunglasses and a black leather jacket.”  
Jason’s eyes widened and he slowly sunk down to the floor and sat there like a pool of molasses.  
Bruce blinked, slowly turning to face Jason. “When was this?”  
“Around forty-five minutes ago, I suppose. He carried a dark brown satchel.”  
“I see,” said Bruce. “I’ll keep my eyes open.”  
“...You’re trapped in an elevator, how would you-”  
“Just… nevermind. I’m sure it's not far,” Bruce grumbled.  
“Very well, I called for someone to come fix the elevator. They should be here shortly.”  
“Great. Thanks.” Bruce replied.  
“Do you want me to stay until they arrive?”  
“Unnecessary,” Bruce grunted.  
Bruce crossed his arms and glared at Jason, who was very pointedly avoiding eye contact. Everyone else in the elevator avoided looking at Jason as well. A tense silence swept through the small room.  
“Where is it?” Bruce asked.  
“Hmmm? Me?” Jason asked, surprised, pointing at himself.  
“Yes, you. Where is it?”  
“Where's what?”  
“Jason. Where?”  
“I dunno what you’re talking about,” Jason shrugged. When Bruce still waited for an answer he began to speak rapid-fire. “I mean... I just don't know. Someone’s stealing stuff. I dunno.”  
“Where's the satchel?”  
“What’s a satchel?”  
“You mean this?” Tim piped up, holding up Jason’s bag. Bruce scowled and snatched it away.  
“I’ve never seen that before in my life,” Jason said.  
Bruce opened it, looked inside, and then gave Jason an ‘are you kidding me?’ look.  
Dick peered over Bruce's shoulder, and then sighed and threw his hands up in defeat.  
“How did that get in there?!” Jason asked with forced innocence.  
Bruce opened the satchel and stared at its contents for a minute before hoisting a basketball-sized device out of it. Everyone turned to look at the strange metallic thing and then back at Jason, who was whistling idly. In the background, the same happy song that had been playing for forty-five minutes played.  
“ _Seriously?_ ” Bruce sighed.  
“What is that?” Damian asked, prodding the device with his toe.  
“Bomb,” Cass said, nodding wisely.  
“I have never seen that before…” Jason said, very obviously lying.  
“It's activated,” Tim said, still sitting in his corner. He pointed a tired hand at the device.  
“No, it is not. If it was then we’d all be dead,” Dick stated.  
“It's not that kind of bomb,” Bruce and Jason and Tim said in unison.  
“Not that’d I’d know that, of course,” Jason said quickly. “Just making an educated guess.”  
“The light is green. It's on,” Tim said, gesturing at it again.  
“Tt. Drakes correct, though it pains me to admit,” said Damian with a frown.  
“Ah. Dick was right. I’m hallucinating,” Tim said dreamily. Damian scowled.  
“B, what kind of bomb was this?” Dick asked.  
“Well, it was a…” Bruce's voice trailed off as a look of realization came over him, then he glared at Jason. “It's a bomb that deactivates all tech in a mile radius.”  
Dick blinked. “I don't get it.”  
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “It's a prototype. It's only in the testing stage. It's not completely functional yet.”  
“Stop being vague, B. We’ve been over this,” Dick said, annoyance beginning to creep into his voice.  
Cass threw her hands into the air. “Elevator stop!” Dick just looked more confused.  
“Instead of taking down all technology in a mile radius, it just focused itself on the biggest piece of tech it could reach,” Bruce grit out, looking about ready to knock Jason to the floor.  
Dick nodded, slowly, still confused. “Which is…. the…”  
“Elevator!” everyone snapped at once, except for Jason, who began to go into a rant where his words were evidently chosen very carefully.  
“You’re telling me that this is _my fault?!_ ” Jason cried hysterically. He shook his head at the group. “Wow. You never suspect yourself. What a plot twist.”  
“I can't believe you did this,” Dick said, sounding deeply offended and hurt.  
“You know what, you’re right,” Jason snapped. “I should have stayed _dead_.”  
“I’m… not even going to comment on that,” Bruce looked like he would rather be falling down the elevator shaft than being stuck in the elevator with his children.  
“Now that we know the source of the elevator's downfall, could we use this to escape?” Damian asked Bruce, who looked a little too tired to care.  
“He means ‘can we shut the bomb off?’” Tim translated. “Which we can.”  
“I’ll shoot it!” Jason suggested, reaching for his pile o’ weapons.  
“No! No, no, no, no, no!” Dick yelled, slapping Jason's hand away. To which Jason responded by slapping Dick on the shoulder. And then they began slapping each other simultaneously. Soon it grew into an intense slap fight.  
“Cut it out,” Bruce growled, pulling them apart. “Tim’s right-”  
“Hi! Hello,” a delirious Tim said upon hearing his name. Everyone ignored him.  
“-we can shut the bomb off, and then we can go home,” Bruce finished.  
“B, that's the best thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Jason grinned. “Hit the off switch!”  
“It's not that easy,” Bruce stated.  
“Then hit the self destruct button,” Jason said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  
“It doesn't have a self destruct button,” Dick said but he sounded unsure. He turned to Bruce, “does it?”  
“No! Why would I put a self destruct button on it? It's a bomb! Its whole point is to destroy,” Bruce scowled.  
“But then, we boom. And die,” Cass commented with a small wave of one hand. With the other she continued to tweet.  
“Come on! Even Dr. Doofenshmirtz puts self destruct buttons on his inventions,” Jason protested. “Have you learned _nothing_ from all those episodes of _Phineas and Ferb_ Dick and I used to make you watch?”  
“ _Perry! Agent P!_ ’ Tim sang softly.  
Damian blinked, looking taken back. “Are these… Are these the names of new super villains? Of Rogues? Father, who is Agent P? I demand to know.”  
Jason gasped dramatically and placed a hand on his heart. “B, are you telling me that this child has never seen _Phineas and Ferb_? You’re neglecting the boy!”  
“I am not a child!” Damian spat, stomping his foot angrily. “And I may not have fought this _Phineas and Ferb_ before, but I assure you when I do, they will crave death.”  
“Damian…” Dick sighed weakly.  
“Spongebob? Fairly Odd Parents? Jimmy Neutron? Looney Toons?!” Jason asked, his eyes wide and wild. He looked horrified. “iCarly?”  
“I will fight them all!” Damian yelled, his small hands forming fists by his sides. “Our battle shall be legendary!”  
Jason looked weak. “Tell me at least he’s seen Sesame Street??”  
“Of _course_ I showed him Sesame Street!” Dick cried. “What kind of animal do you take me for?”  
“He tracked down the Cookie Monster puppet and tried to fight it,” Tim added.  
“You can't put the word ‘monster’ in your name and expect _not to be_ assumed evil,” Damian argued, crossing his arms.  
Jason counted on his fingers. “Monster trucks. Monster energy drinks…”  
“Yes please,” said Tim, rubbing the dark circles under his eyes.  
“Monster-”  
"Alright, that is enough,” Bruce held his hand up. “As much as I appreciate that you all are bonding and getting along-”  
Everyone protested immediately, and Jason spluttered something about “not family” and “dying” and “vengeance” and “dying” again.  
“-we really do have to get out of here,” Bruce finished.  
“And we have to work together to do so!” Dick smiled, a little too optimistic to be believable.  
“I’m out,” Jason said, stepping back.  
“I bet Alfred is worried sick,” Dick said, knowing full well Alfred was probably currently reading Shakespeare and enjoying the peace and quiet.  
“I’m back in,” Jason said, taking a step forward.  
“I’ll help,” Tim offered.  
“Go to sleep,” Dick said without thinking.  
“Okay,” Tim responded and closed his eyes.  
“Actually,” Bruce piped in, “Tim, we need your expertise to- oh, he’s already asleep, huh.”  
“I’ll stab him,” said Damian, selecting a katana from his pile.  
“No!” said Dick, Bruce, and surprisingly, Jason, at the same time.  
While they were discussing this, Cass flicked Tim’s ear repeatedly until he woke up.  
“Whaaaat?” Tim whined, swatting Cass’ hand away and frowning.  
“You know the designs for this better than I do,” Bruce said, holding the bomb out.  
“Fine, lemme see it.”  
“Don't blow us all up,” Jason suggested.  
“Gee, what a fine idea, Einstein,” Tim grunted. He tossed the device from hand to hand for a few minutes in silence, his gaze latched onto the motion.  
“Fix?” Cass asked impatiently.  
“Yeah, yeah,” Tim muttered, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand and yawning. “There's… um…. The power source inside… It's a little chip about the size of an acorn. Just one problem, though.”  
“And that is?” Bruce asked.  
“We have no way of getting the outer plate off, my hands are too big to fit inside and grab the chip, and once it's out it will blow up in a matter of seconds unless I hack it, and I’m seeing double so I can't do that…” Tim sighed.  
“I can hack it!” Dick said quickly. “Oracle-”  
Bruce glared at him and Dick made an _I’m sorry_ face.  
“-sorry, no codenames, I knew that, _ahem, Babs,_ has been giving me lessons, on top of what I already know.” Dick said. “All I need is a way to digitally connect to it… like a… maybe…”  
“Phone?” Cass suggested, holding hers out.  
“Have I mentioned you are my favourite sister?” Dick grinned, taking it.  
“Uh… _only_ sister?” Cass pouted.  
“Irrelevant!” Dick said.  
“I suppose my hands might be small enough to fit through,” Damian said.  
“Ha ha, you’re tiny,” Tim sang as he played with the small pool of blood around his ankle.  
“I will strangle you,” Damian threatened.  
“Okay, but how are we going to get the plate off?” Bruce asked.  
Dick sighed, “It looks way too strong to just rip apart… this might be a bust.”  
“We can use this!” Jason said cheerfully, pulling his crowbar out of his weapons pile. He smiled. He tossed it up and down in his hand.  
“Why… why do you have that?” Bruce exhaled slowly.  
“And don't say ‘because the irony is funny’ again!” Dick said, looking like he was about to cry.  
“Fun fact, this is the same one that murdered me!” Jason said happily.  
Dick started crying.  
“No it's not,” Tim said. “That one got blown up and buried under a bunch of rubble.”  
“Just like me,” Jason said.  
Dick cried harder.  
“Here, just hand me the crowbar,” Bruce sighed.  
“I can do it,” Jason said, reaching for the device in Dick’s grasp.  
“Do you know how to use it?” Bruce asked doubtfully.  
“Yes, actually. Believe it or not, all my experiences with crowbars _weren't_ just getting beat to death with one,” the crying got louder, “but I grew up on the streets, if you remember. Stealing things and whatnot. I know how to use a crowbar.”  
Jason ripped the device from Dick’s hands and placed the crowbar between two sections of the outer shell, and pried it apart.  
“There we go!” said Jason gleefully. “Short stuff! Think fast!”  
Damian barely caught the bomb before it smacked him in the face.  
“What am I looking for exactly?” Damian asked, peering inside the complex bomb with distaste.  
“A small chip about the size of an acorn.”  
“Not helpful, Grayson.”  
“It’s round, flat, and smooth,” said Tim. “Also light grey, attached to a bunch of wires, and probably blinking a faint light. Most likely red. Maybe green. I don't know. Colors.”  
“Thank you, Drake,” Damian huffed. He began to move some wires around.  
Tim blinked. “Did he just… did demon spawn just _thank me?_ Oh my gosh the world is ending. Am I dying? Am I having a stroke? Is that what this is?”  
“I take it back!” Damian spluttered, his hands freezing with anger inside of the bomb.  
“He _did_ thank you,” Bruce said, smiling slightly.  
“Father, I took it back!”  
“Thank,” Cass said teasingly.  
“I’m so proud of you,” Dick grinned through his tears.  
“I TOOK IT BACK YOU MISERABLE-”  
“For goodness sake just _take out the chip!!_ ” Jason yelled. “I’m getting claustrophobic!!!”  
“ _That means he's afraid of Santa Claus. Ho ho ho_ ,” Tim said softly. Then he chuckled for a long time.  
“Okay, I’m legitimately getting concerned for Tim now,” said Dick.  
“That was a Spongebob reference and any of you would have gotten it if you were in the least bit _educated!!!_ ” Jason screeched.  
“I have retrieved it,” Damian said, holding the small chip in his hand, the ends of the ripped wires sparking.  
“Okay. Good,” Tim nodded calmly. “Now Dick has thirty seconds to hack it before we all blow up and die. Give or take.”  
“Wait, what?! Dick said frantically, ripping the chip and device from Damian while urgently typing on Cass’s phone. “You didn't tell me that!”  
“Death is an old friend,” Jason leaned back on his wall and sighed.  
“Now is not the time to quote your idiotic shows,” Damian spat.  
“I think it was Harry Potter actually,” Jason said.  
Dick hissed between his teeth as he rapidly tapped on Cass’ phone.  
“You got it wrong,” Tim objected, determined to out-nerd Jason. “It’s ‘I greeted death like an old friend.”  
“Yeah, well, you're delusional from blood loss and haven't slept or eaten or drank in, like, a week, so I don't think I believe you,” said Jason.  
“Well, I’m right,” Tim argued. He stuck his tongue out for good measure.  
“Dying today,” Cass whispered, eying Dick nervously.  
“Yeah, we’re gonna die,” Jason said nonchalantly, yawning.  
“I got it!!” Dick squealed.  
“Thank goodness,” Bruce breathed.  
“There was never a doubt in my mind,” said Jason, clapping Dick on the shoulder.  
A small light on the device went from being dark, to flickering to red a couple times, and then green, before finally going dark again.  
The elevator slowly started to sink downwards again.  
“YES! FREEDOM!” Jason yelled.  
“Finally,” Cass sighed. 

The elevator door was pried open and all six people tumbled out like dominoes. They ran out into the lobby in several different directions. Jason took a deep breath before going back into the elevator to gather his weapons. Tim limped out, smiled blissfully for a second before slumping to the floor, fast asleep. Cass walked out with her head bent over her phone, a slight smirk on her lips as she typed away. Bruce straightened his suit and tie and briskly walked from the elevator, glad to be away from the chaos and the endless elevator music. Damian grabbed his katana from the weapons pile and checked it for any scratches or damage and then walked out of the elevator into the hall. Dick dramatically stepped into the hallway and took a deep breath of the stale air as if it were the first real breath he had taken in a long time. 

“Mr. Wayne,” said a secretary as she saw Bruce emerge from the elevator. She held up a phone to him. “It's for you.”  
“Wayne,” Bruce said into the phone as the secretary walked away.  
“I’m glad to hear you’re alright after that fiasco,” came the British reply.  
“Alfred,” Bruce replied, earning a few curious glances from his kids.  
“Everyone managed to get out without injuring each other?”  
“Yes, I… how did you know we were stuck in an elevator?” Bruce asked, suspicious.  
“I was following Miss Caine’s ‘live tweets’ as the youth say. Very entertaining,” Alfred replied. “Shakespeare himself could not have hoped to achieve greater irony.”  
“Should have known. How much did she reveal?” Bruce asked. “Should I be planning a press conference?”  
“Nothing too much. I do believe she managed to avoid anything that would reveal certain… secrets… the worst I can find is a few selfies she took that had Master Jason in the background, who she repeatedly referred to as ‘her cousin Loki’. I believe this is referring to-”  
“That comic book character who keeps coming back from the dead,” Bruce said. “Yes. I got the joke.”  
“I was going to say it referred to the ancient trickster god of Norse myths and lore, but I do believe you would be correct.”  
“Did you need something, Alfred?”  
“Are you somewhere private where we can discuss… _sensitive_ matters?” Alfred asked.  
Bruce looked around the lobby. “It's just me and the kids. As long as the lines are secure, speak freely.”  
“Yes, well, that is very good. It appears a new problem has appeared on our radar.”  
“ _Great_.”  
“Both Killer Croc and the Enchantress appeared to have teamed up to rob Gotham General bank. The Enchantress was apprehended by the GCPD-”  
Bruce laughed. “That's a joke, right?”  
“-with the assistance of the Spoiler, Bat Woman, and the Signal,” Alfred said, ignoring Bruce's outburst. “They, however, appeared to have lost track of Croc in the chaos. You see, shortly after capture Enchantress escaped from police custody-”  
“That's not surprising.”  
“And all our available allies are currently working on her.”  
“Any leads?” Bruce asked. The kids were whispering among themselves and staring at Bruce suspiciously, not trying to hide their eavesdropping.  
“The Oracle got hits on Croc via security cameras at 224th Everton Lane, then again seven minutes later on a camera uptown near Gotham Central Park.”  
“The only way for him to be travelling that fast is if he had some sort of passage through the sewers,” Bruce said. The kids whispering got louder and Bruce turned away.  
“Perhaps,” said Alfred. “I pity the poor fools who have to go after him.”  
“Yeah, well, we’ll figure it out,” Bruce said musingly. “Thanks Alfred. I’ll keep you updated.”  
Bruce set the phone down with a click and sighed, turning around. “Well, as long as we’re apparently all working together now, why don't we divide and conquer and-”  
All of the kids were gone.  
Bruce nodded. “Figures.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Hi readers! Thank you for reading the first part of our story. Originally this was a one-shot, but we had a little too much fun writing it, so there will be more chapters to come! Thank you so much for reading, and stay safe and healthy!


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